


Endlessly

by dollylux



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Dirty Talk, Infidelity, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 00:28:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1798858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have been waiting for you, biding as you taught me to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endlessly

The pain of international duty is different now. It's not a complete climate change from Merseyside to Las Rozas anymore. It's not even a flight at all. Now it's just a drive a few minutes north of Madrid. He'd hugged Fernando and Albert and Pepe hello in sympathy and he knows at least he doesn't miss having tired, bleary eyes and jet lag.

Madrid is home now.

It hasn't hit even now, the night before he leaves for Macedonia with the rest of the national team. That city out there is familiar but not his. It doesn't seem settled in and grey, it doesn't seem rainy or cloudy or loving or home. It contains his son and his wife, sure, but right now, when he's standing on the balcony of the hotel he's staying at tonight, everything he loves seems an impossible distance away. He licks his lips, aching for a cigarette, for a shot of alcohol, for anything to dull what he knows is too much emotion. He feels slighted or even betrayed but it's all so ridiculous. When you're the one who leaves, you lose the right to hurt.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and it takes several beats for it to register at all. He shakes his head at his own stupidity as he digs around to retrieve it, his throat tightening to prepare to apologize to Nagore. He hears bright laughter from the street below and he's almost comforted by the fact that Madrid never sleeps (he's still not used to so much Spanish).

He presses a button and pushes the phone to his ear, his fingers shaking as if he has something to crave.

" _¿Kaixo?_ "

"Now don't tell me you've gone 'n forgotten English already, Xabier."

Xabi ducks his head in apology, the reprimand a joke, he knows, a light one at that, but that's still his captain's voice, that's still _Steven's_ voice. It still controls every nerve in his body like marionette strings.

"Stevie."

"Ah, now that's a good English word." Steven is smiling and Xabi can hear it and it's such a familiar sound, such a familiar thing to imagine that he can't help but smile himself. Xabi pulls the balcony door closed, knowing that Pepe didn't mind giving him privacy. He sinks down onto the hard concrete of the little ledge and his legs are entirely too long for such a position. He closes his eyes and Spain disappears and he's suddenly back in England. (And when, Xabi, when has that ever felt more comforting?)

"A tight groin, huh," Xabi drawls, smiling to himself because he can see Steven's eyebrows draw together, the slight flush of his cheeks at the mere thought of his groin being mentioned in conversation.

"I'm sorry?"

"The papers said you have a tight groin and that's why you're not going to play with England?"

"The papers, huh?" Steven muses quietly for a moment before he lets out a breath of laughter that whispers in Xabi's ear. "Funny to hear you readin' about me in papers. So much different than pillow talk, eh?"

Xabi frowns to himself, not realizing how tightly he's gripping the railing.

"Are you angry with me?"

"Xabi..." Steven sighs, his voice sounding tired immediately, all the laughter gone. "It's not about that anymore, is it? Wouldn't matter if I was. Everything's already been decided. You're already back in Spain. You don't need my approval for anythin' anymore."

"You didn't say goodbye."

"You didn't get my text?"

Xabi's eyes burn with hot tears and he grits his teeth, knuckles white on the wrought iron. He slams his eyes closed and his heart flickers.

"You didn't. Say. Goodbye."

"You want me to say goodbye?"

Xabi's chest hurts now, his heart hurts and he feels a sudden wave of panic, his lean chest rising and falling rapidly. The iron feels cool against his forehead and he wonders briefly what it would feel like under his feet.

"Steven."

"Tell me what you want, Xabi. Tell me what would make this easier for you. Just tell me what to do because I'm... I'm fuckin' lost here, mate. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. All's I know is you ain't here and I am and it's killin' me, it's fucking killing me."

Xabi's chin trembles and he digs his forehead into the railing until he's sure it'll bruise. He sucks in a loud breath and he doesn't even care how much it sounds like a sob. Steven's voice wavers but it's a wordless sound, it's vocalized pain and it rips and tears at Xabi's bones.

"This wasn't about you and me."

"I need to see you, Xabi. I swear, I'm going insane. I can't even function. Alex is ready to call my mum over this. I can't... fuck. I can't eat. What've you done to me? When did you... when did you get under my skin? When did I let you..." They both fall silent but Xabi can tell that Steven is crying and he has to put the phone down so that he can let out a choked sob, his fingers pressing hard at the bridge of his nose. He picks the phone back up and his tears make the numberpad damp and stick to his cheek.

"Get on your webcam, Stevie? Please? Just for a minute?"

"Yes." It's a whisper and a broken one and they both move into action then, not a word between them but there's rustling and opening and closing of doors and squeaks of chairs and Xabi realizes that his room is empty now, not a soul there but him and he shoves his laptop open and clicks on the right icon at least four times, hands shaking. He clicks on Steven's name and they close their phones the very second they see each other, seeming older than their scant years now, hearts and bodies in more pain than should be allowed for men their age (boys, really, at the core of it). Steven blinks at Xabi and he draws in a deep breath and tries to control his tears but Xabi has no such control, he reaches forward and runs his fingers over the screen, over Steven's face, over fading tan skin and river-bluegray eyes over all the pain written into the lines on his face. Steven is breathing more deeply now, in way, way over his head and he knows it. He stares hard at Xabi and he runs his teeth over and over his bottom lip.

"Two weeks and four days. Do you know it, love?"

Xabi nods and his cheeks are flushed, his heart racing right up against the surface of his chest, against his ribcage, against his eternally pale skin. He knows how Steven would feel right now, he knows the passion he would push into his mouth with his tongue, his cock, he knows the love and hunger and desperation that always ebbs between them would be on fire now, right now (if he were there, if he were still there).

"Let me see you, Xabi. God, let me see you. You're so fuckin' beautiful. The most beautiful thing I've seen in my whole life." Steven's eyes are more Atlantic Ocean than Mersey River now, they're bright with his lust and he's trying to ignore everything else, trying to ignore the voice that's saying _this is how it's going to be from now on, this isn't a game, this isn't just a few days, a few weeks, this is forever and this is now your forever and he's not yours, not anymore._

Xabi pulls his faded gray t-shirt over his head and Steven moans, he full-out moans. He reaches down and pushes at his shorts and underwear to get to his cock and he rubs it with a flat palm, satiating for the moment. He leans back and his eyes fall to half-mast. Xabi glows in the light from the computer and nothing else, he glows almost like he does in moonlight and Steven knows that look on him all too well. Xabi runs a hand over his own chest and Steven grips his cock as it fills almost immediately. Tears burn in his eyes and they just make him tighten his hand, make him frantic to forget everything but lust because lust is so much easier.

"Are you alone, Xabi?"

"Yes. Yes, Stevie. Tell me what to do. Just tell me."

"Christ." He watches the way Xabi's body arches in his chair and he can feel the bow of his spine, he can feel the press of their chests together and he absently spreads the drips of liquid over his cock before he starts stroking himself. "Touch yourself. The way I would. Don't be soft cause god, Xabi, I would... I would..."

Xabi bites down on his bottom lip as he rubs himself over his shorts, his cheeks pinking and he's so hard but he's demure, always modest, always shy of Steven's seeming worship of him. Their eyes burn on each other's bodies and Steven shudders at the held-in grunt that pushes at Xabi's lips.

"You'd what? Tell me." Xabi grunts, standing up to push his shorts down and he knows just what Steven's getting to see and when he hears his growl, his possessive, starved growl he wraps his hand around his own cock before he even realizes it, stepping closer to the webcam to let Steven see it full and dark with blood and desire and just the slightest bit wet and Steven's mouth waters.

"I would fuckin'... damnit, Xabi. I would fuck you so hard right now." Steven knows this is filth, that what he's saying and doing is such cliched, sophomoric smut but it feels so good, it feels... like _anything_ , much moreso than what he's been feeling for the past two weeks. Xabi sinks back down into the chair and he whimpers and Steven moans for the sound, his eyes fluttering but he can't look away, not even for a second.

"I need it, Stevie. I need it so bad."

He's whispering and it's fast and soft and he's rubbing at his nipples because that's what Steven would do, he's lying to himself about Steven all around him, he's imagining him in all the right places, thick and shoved in and spread out and nothing but intimacy, nothing but two bodies that fit together perfectly and they'd both known it the first second Steven had forced his way in. ( _Never felt this way before. Ohmygod, I've never..._ )

"Will you ever let me again? Will you... later, if we ever meet again, Xabi? Will you let me in just one more time? If I promise it's the last time?"

Xabi's hand shakes and he sucks in a sharp little sound and Steven knows the sound of Xabi crying. They push closer to their screens and Steven curls his arm around it, loathing the feel of plastic, of cool, artificial surfaces because he wants burning skin, he wants soft hair over even softer skin and goosebumps and heartbeats against his fingertips and Xabi's mouth everywhere, just like it always was before, just like it always should be. They're panting together and it's in tandem and it's deafening almost.

"Don't say that. Don't say that. I'm not letting you go, Stevie. No matter what. Don't let me go. I can't... I can't..." They stop and their hands are moving roughly over their cocks and they rock toward each other, their shoulders jolting and they're coming and it's almost exact, it's as close to together as they can get and even Xabi can't be quiet now, even he is crying out as tears spill down his cheeks and come spills over his hand and even as Steven is falling apart in front of him, somehow in front of him but he's not there with him and he knows it now, painfully. He sees Steven's vulnerability and he's usually there to protect it, to draw him in close and kiss him through it, touch his arms and his chest and his back and his cock as he trembles and he feels his mouth touching the screen and he's kissing at Steven's body there soclosesofar, nuzzling him and he can hear him so intimately, hear his shuddered little breaths and the tiny grunts as he becomes boneless.

Steven lifts his eyes and they're heavy now, wet with tears and he's sated and half asleep and needing. Xabi traces his shoulder, his chest that is all nobility to Xabi, all pride and masculinity and comfort. He slides his fingertips over Steven's face and Steven sighs as if he can feel it somehow. They gaze at each other and Xabi feels every mile like a sharp, rooted pull on his heart.

"You promise, Xabi?"

"I promise."


End file.
